


Hurricane Drunk

by candyflossmelanie



Series: Carry On Song Fics [1]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drinking, F/M, Inspired by Florence + the Machine, M/M, Title from a Florence + the Machine Song, Unrequited Love, he just wants to be loved, poor baz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6776407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candyflossmelanie/pseuds/candyflossmelanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I hope that you see me<br/>Cause I'm staring at you<br/>But when you look over<br/>You look right through<br/>Then you lean and kiss her on the head<br/>And I never felt so alive, and so... dead</p><p>Inspired by Florence + The Machine's 'Hurricane Drunk'</p><p>It's just Baz's luck that Simon is at the bar that he went to to get him and Agatha out of Baz's head. And of course nothing ever goes his way, or looks his way, rather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurricane Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> https://youtu.be/SoHV229_DQM
> 
> Honestly, I love this song, and I love Baz, so I figured, 'Why not mix them together for my own pain/pleasure?', and it created this.
> 
> So enjoy this little mess I've made.

“ _Do you want to talk about it?”_ Her voice crackles through the phone.

“No, I’d much rather not, Fiona.” I quip back, glaring at the window facing me.

“ _Are you sure?”_ She asks again, prodding to get me to open up.

“I already said I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Honestly, if I had known you were going to do this, I wouldn’t have told you in the first place.” I reply, standing up and whipping the curtains shut.

“ _I’m only trying to help, Baz. I know how it feels to see someone you love with someone else.”_ Fiona sighs, and I can imagine a loose frown tugging at her lips.

“I know you know. That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want your shelter. Forget it. I’m going out.” I grumble and pick my keys up off of the coffee table. I need to get out of here and go somewhere. Preferably to a bar.

“ _Jesus, kid. Don’t drink yourself to death.”_ Fiona scolds, already guessing my plans.

“No promises, Fi.” I retort and step out of my dark and stuffy dorm room.

I make it outside finally, heading towards the parking lot.

I breathe in fresh air and my face immediately scrunches up. Disgusting, the outside world. I hadn’t been out of my house in seven days straight, and the sudden change in the atmosphere was really getting to me. Really, it wasn’t my fault I was holed up with no motivation to do anything. It was stupid Snow and his pathetic girlfriend Wellbelove’s fault.

It all started a week ago. I had been sitting in my bed reading ‘ _Tips on Getting Guys to Like You’_ , intelligently covered with a fake title that read _‘How To Get Away With Murder in 5 Easy Steps’,_ when my college dorm roommate, Simon Snow, had waltzed in with a dazed look and sparkles in his eyes. He looked fantastic as always, even with his curly golden hair mussed up and his supple lips pinker than usual. It had thrown me off.

“What’s got you looking like an idiot, Snow?” I had sneered, closing my book. I was already disregarding rule two, ‘Look friendly and approachable’. The boy glared at me, his dreamy look replaced with disgust.

“I’ll have you know that I ruined your plans of winning over Agatha by doing it myself,” He replied, and I had laughed a harsh laugh.

“You really think I would ever like someone as dull as Wellbelove?” I cackled, but the smile fell off my face when his words caught up with me. “W-wait. You and Agatha?” I stuttered, immediately scolding myself. Pitch’s don’t stutter.

“Yup, and we just had our first kiss.” Snow had answered defiantly, crossing his arms and grinning maliciously as he continued to tower over me. He must have noticed my disappointment then, because his smile had grown even wider. “How does it feel to have your plotting foiled?”

“It feels like nothing, because I wasn’t plotting anything,” I muttered, picking up my book and returning to reading it.

“With a book like that, you must have been plotting something.” Snow had accused, and my frown deepened.

 _‘Well I had been…’_ I thought. But it didn’t really matter anymore.

And that is why it was all their fault. If those two idiots hadn’t gotten all friendly, then I wouldn’t be at the front door of a bar right now, about to drink myself into a drunk stupor.

I sigh deeply and shove the heavy door open. My nose is immediately bombarded with the scent of whiskey and liquor, mixing with the stench of sweat. I can hear shouts, jeers, and friendly conversation, along with a football match playing on the television. It was a stark contrast to our dorm room.

I head over to the bar where I plunk down on a peeling black stool, and rest my head on my hand. The bar tender notices me and heads my way.

“What can I get you then?” She asks, her blonde ponytail swinging behind her.

“Cinnamon whiskey.” I reply simply, and she grabs a glass from behind the shelf behind her and starts to fill it. She sets it before me and I expect her to waltz away to another customer, but she stays put in front of me.

“Lady Troubles?” She guesses. Dear God, how cliché can this get? I mean, a bar tender asking about your love life while you mope in front of them?

“Something like that,” I say and take a sip. It burns going down the back of my throat and I almost cough. Almost. She nods after she realizes I’m not going to continue and walks away, which is fine with me. I’m not exactly in the mood for talking.

I sigh and take a look around the bar before something catches my eye. Golden hair. Well, it’s more bronze really, but that’s beside the point. The point is that a mop of familiar hair on top of a familiar head with familiar eyes is sitting across the bar. With none other than the dreaded Agatha Wellbelove.

“Are you there God? It’s me, Basilton. What the actual fuck.” I say out loud. What did I ever do to deserve this? Maybe it was from being so mean to Snow these past four years. Maybe it was from when I ripped the legs off of a beetle in first year. Whatever it was, karma was back to bite me. Hard.

I brace myself, because I know it’s going to hurt. But, I like to think at least things can’t get any worse.

I stare at him. He's laughing at something she said, and his cheeks are pink and rosy. His hand is slipped loosely around her waist as they sit in the back booth in their own little bubble. I wish I was the one to make him laugh like that. To have his arm wrapped around _my_ waist instead of hers. He looks over in my direction and I swear he catches my eye. But then I realize he isn’t looking at me, he’s looking at the T.V behind me, paying attention to the match instead. Snow turns and looks at Agatha, before leaning down and kissing her on the head.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alive.

And so dead.

I tear my eyes away and settle them on my drink, before tipping my head back and downing the rest of my whiskey in one go. The bartender gets me another drink, and I settle in to my seat. I don’t look at them for the rest of the night, but I can feel their presence burning scars into my back.

I’m in the grip of a hurricane.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated ;)


End file.
